When we stand together
by LuminoSpirit
Summary: The President has decided that all vigilantes are a danger to the public. SHIELD is in charge of putting all of them away, and the Avengers are head of the mission. After months of this poor treatment, finally some of the vigilantes have had enough. It's time to stand together. Warning: Violence, homelessness, gore.
1. Great clouds roll over the hills

**A/N) Um. Yeah. Soooory. I hate it when authors do this too.**

 **But you see, I was trying to write the next chapter for my other story, but it didn't work! Nothing sounded right! I just couldn't do it! But then I thought... They probably want a chapter. And if I can't deliver a chapter for 'We could be', (or now 'The trickster's fate'- I'll explain the title change later) I decided why not do it for this one? Yeah, I know, you guys probably wanted something else, but if you want a chapter for 'The trickster's fate' try guilt tripping me. It always works.** _(Always.)_

 **Oh yeah! And in my other story, people started saying that there wasn't a line break. I could have sworn that I** ** _did_** **put a line break, but just in case, I'll just make my own from now on. You'll see it in this chapter ;)**

 **Anyways, that's all from me. Bye! Oh, and uh... enjoy!** _(*Facepalm. No words. Just... No words)._

 _Spiderman climbed up the side of a tall building that Sunday evening. It was one of the older buildings in the city, and it was made of stone. It hadn't been knocked down yet, but according to some of the newspapers he had_

 _read, it would be soon. He had decided to climb it before he wouldn't have the chance anymore._

 _He easily scaled the last of the building, and sat down at the very edge of it, letting his legs swing over the side. As he looked out over the city, he admired the beautiful lights of his home town. He decided right then and there that he would never give up this view, if it meant his life._

 _He engrossed himself in the perfect view that this building allowed him to see. Why would someone want to knock down such a vantage point? You could see everything from here._

 _Recently, this had been happening to all of the buildings with good views. At first he had thought it was a coincidence, but then all of the buildings that he frequented began to be knocked down, one by one. He had decided that it could not be a coincidence anymore, but he had yet to find out why this was happening._

 _Sure, he knew the citizens of New York weren't exactly big fans of him, but to go this far? That didn't make any sense to him. He was helping lower crime rates, after all. Even if he was a vigilante that no one particularily liked, they put up with him beacause 'A', he actually helped out, and 'B', he made money. That last one was an unspoken reason, but after he appeared, more and more tourists came to New York, in hopes of spotting the infamous Spiderman. People could sell merchandise of him, and everything._

 _So he was a little confused as to why they were knocking down all of the best vantage points. Of course, some were still left. You couldn't knock down too many apartment buildings or hotels without a little bit of outrage from the public. Too many people would be losing homes, and tourists wouldn't have anywhere to stay._

 _Of course, there would always be at least two buildings that they couldn't tear down. That would be The Empire state building, and Stark/Avengers tower. (The Oscorp building could be taken down easily if you filed a law suit against Oscorp. They had made too many mistakes in the past...)_

 _"Hey," said an older voice. Spiderman didn't jump. His Spidey-sense hadn't been activated, so he knew that this person was safe. Plus, he knew that the person had been there._

 _"What's up?" asked Spiderman, as he turned to look at a fellow vigilante, Daredevil._

 _Daredevil sighed, and sat down next to him. "Nothing good, I'm afraid." He handed Spiderman a newspaper that had been printed today. He hadn't had the chance to look at it, because he had been Spidering the whole day. "Looks like we aren't as popular as we first thought."_

 _Spiderman looked down at the paper, and flicked to the front page. The headline was; 'PRESIDENT FINALLY TAKING ACTION: ALL VIGILANTES TO BE APPREHENDED!'._

 _Spiderman stared. And stared. He stared long, hard, and quietly. Was this why all the good vantage points were being destroyed?_

 _He read the rest aloud._

 _"'According to a press confrence held at the White House, Washington D.C., the president has issued a fully fledged law suit against all vigilantes. Should any fail to come forward, all officers are to shoot on sight. All citizens are to call the nearest police station if they witness a vigilante taking part in any crime or otherwise. All merchandise being sold of any vigilante is to be stopped, and if you are to continue you will be arrested.'"_

 _Peter had to stop reading there. He couldn't believe his eyes! Why, why oh why, would they do this? They were helping! Crime rates had gone down by an enormous margin since they had appeared!_

 _Daredevil nodded sadly. "Yeah. And it gets worse..." he mumbled, and pointed to the next paragraph, where an interview with the president had been posted. The sentence in question was explaining why this was happening. Spiderman felt like it was the worst reason anyone could come up with..._

 _'Now that we have the Avengers, there is no reason that we should let law-breakers like Spiderman or Deadpool go free.' Spiderman glared. Deadpool was a mercenary, not a crime-stopper, or whatever they called vigilantes nowadays._

 _"But the Avengers don't help with crime at all!" He exclaimed angrily, slamming his fist down on the newspaper._

 _Daredevil nodded. "No, they don't. But... they did stop an alien attack last month. I guess they're just favouriting them."_

 _"I agree!" Came a joyful voice. Spiderman didn't even have to look to know that the 'Merc with a mouth' was behind them. "But you have to admit, Spidey, we do look like twins!" He commented on what the president had said._

 _Deadpool plopped himself down between Daredevil and Spiderman rudely. "We look nothing like twins, Deadpool." Peter said dryly._

 _Deadpool gasped. "Hey, you're right! We look like lovers!" Deadpool put his arm around Spiderman, and nuzzled into his shoulder. Spiderman promptly pushed him off._

 _"O... kay." He said doubtfully._

 _Daredevil looked at them with mild confusion, and slight amusement. "Anyway... are you guys... going to give yourselves up?"_

 _Deadpool laughed. "Are you kidding? If I gave myself up, this would be a hella' boring story!" He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world._

 _There was a pause, which was filled with an awkward silence, where Daredevil and Spiderman stared at Deadpool with blank looks on their faces. (They went unseen of course; no one could see behind their masks). Deadpool ignored them and stared forward, towards the next building._

 _"... And what about you, kid?" Asked Daredevil after a while._

 _Spiderman shrugged. "Maybe, I mean... what is the worst they could do to us, right?" He explained, unsure. "And you?"_

 _"No, I can't really say that I will." Daredevil said uncertainly. "I mean, what if another Kingpin happens? What if they won't let us stop him?" Spiderman couldn't really think of a reason as to why they wouldn't let them stop a mastermind-criminal. "If we turn ourselves in... they'll probably lock us up... we are unlawful superheroes, after all." He said._

 _"So if you turn yourself in, kid..." He continued sternly. "Watch your back."_

 _Deadpool snorted and laughed. "Superheroes? More like super-vigilantes!" He laughed at his own joke, and Spiderman felt an eyebrow raise involuntarily."Or super-mercaneries. Yep, that fits me better. What do you think?" He asked seriously, looking Daredevil in the eye._

 _Daredevil shrugged uncomforatably, "I guess."_

 _The three sat there in silence for a long time. They listened to the city sounds; chattering people, cars, flickering lamp-shades, and (for Daredevil) some of the small bugs and woodworms hiding in buildings. They enjoyed some of the last moments they would probably have together in silence, just enjoying each other's company. (Which was rare for Deadpool. Perhaps he sensed the seriousness of the situation? ... ... ... Nah)._

 _It was Daredevil that heard it first. He sensed the helicopter approaching a mile away. At first, he assumed it was just passing by, but it kept coming closer..._

 _Spiderman was the second to notice it. His Spidey-sense began to give off strong signals of danger. What was going on?_

 _Deadpool was last to notice, but he felt it the strongest._

 _... Mainly because he was shot in the chest. He looked down forlornly at the hole in his stomach. Some of the stomach acids were falling out. He frowned disaprovingly. "Hey!" He shouted. "That's rude!"_

 _He healed quickly, and in retaliation, the helicopter shot another large volley of bullets at him. By now, Spiderman and Daredevil had taken cover, but Deadpool just stood up, and started running around, screaming; "Every vigilante for himself!"_

 **.o0|O|0o.**

Peter awoke from his memory sadly. He didn't jump up, he wasn't surprised, his heart wasn't racing, and he wasn't sweaty with fear.

He was none of these things, because he had already had that same dream a million times. It was one of the nicer ones, and he didn't mind it. But he never did see Deadpool or Daredevil again after that. He didn't figure out why they shot at him, either. Maybe it was something to do with Deadpool...

It had been a little under a year since the Avengers had ruined his life. At this point, he didn't think anything worse could happen.

So far, aunt May had been 'accidently' killed by a SWAT team, when they arrived at his house. His home had been demolished, and he now lived in the sewers. Crime rates had gone way up, further than they were even before Siderman. His fellow vigilantes had gone into hiding, and so had he, for the most part. (Sometimes, when he was an actual witness to a mugging, he couldn't help but try to defend the victim. Force of habit). He had also stopped going to school, and he hadn't seen Gwen in months. He could only imagine how she felt... hopefully she understood.

And the fact that his house had only been SWATted because he was a suspect made him really guilty. There were undoubtably other suspects, who were innocent, who had also been SWATted, and had their houses demolished. It was his fault... if only he had handed himself in. But the words of Daredevil still rang in his mind to this day.

 _'So if you turn yourself in, kid... watch you're back.'_

Mostly, he stayed in the sewers, unless he was in dire need of food, in which case, he would play the part of beggar on the streets. But it was a heavy winter this year, and most people tended to stay inside as much as possible, because the streets were thick with snow.

He had considered going to a Homeless camp, to get more clothes and food, but then he realised that others probably needed it more than him.

His belongings consisted of the clothes he had been wearing the day his house had been demolished, his Spiderman suit, (of course) and his bag. He had unfortunately lost his skateboard in the demolition.

Peter always wore his Spiderman suit under his clothes nowadays; it was just too cold not to. He made sure that it always stayed hidden, but he was always a little self concious when he went out in public.

He had learned when he first began to run out of food that eating small bugs and insects (such as flies and daddy-long-legs') was possible. They didn't taste all that bad, either. (He supposed it was something to do with his Spidey-gene). He didn't dare try to eat some of the rodents, though. No matter how desperate he was, eating possibly poisoned rats was not something he would like to do.

Peter had found an open area in the sewers, and he took advantage of it. He had created a large web in the 'room'. He now slept, ate, and just generally spent his time here. Over the past few months he had added to the room and collected little knick-knacks which could be useful later on.

He had also managed to memorize the sewers, and had a mental map of most of it. (There was one tunnel that went really far down, and he really didn't want to explore that just yet).

Sometimes Peter was upset that his life had come to this, but he knew that there were a lot of people who were worse off than him, so he didn't mope around too much. Sometimes it was hard, with so much free time, but a small voice scolded him every time he did. (The voice sounded suspicously a lot like Gwen...)

In order to avoid his pitiful thoughts, he slept most of the day and night, so that he could conserve energy. Surviving off of bugs was not the best way to go, he decided. With such a high metabolism, he was almost always hungry. He was skinny-thin, and you could see his ribs poking through his chest.

Peter sighed and rolled over in his web. He needed some more shut-eye...


	2. You held me down for too long

**A/N) Sorry, I couldn't resist! It was just so much fun, and the positive feedback was too encouraging. You guys are the best! ;) Also, I forgot to do the disclaimer last chapter. So... I don't own the charecters! (This is for all of the chapters in this story).**

 **Okay, well there was a couple of things I forgot to mention last chapter.**

 **First: This is set after the first Avengers and before TASM 2.**

 **Second: I have it so that in this world, the more spidery things Peter does, (E.g Eating bugs, Climbing walls, etc..) The easier it is for him to create organic webs, and that's why Peter hasn't run out of web fluid yet.**

 **Third: Every chapter will have a song title or lyrics for a name. Last chapter was 'Pompeii' by Bastille. (Don't own) This chapter is 'My fight' by From Ashes to new. (Don't own either)** _(Of course you don't own that, peasant)._

Peter was awoken for the second time that day (he assumed it was the same day; he actually had no idea) by his web. It was warning him that someone else was here. He could tell it must be dangerous, because his Spidey-sense was buzzing loudly in his ear. The web indicated that the tremble was coming from the east tunnel, so he decided to investigate.

He kicked off his shoes and jeans, but kept his blue hoodie on, because it was still too cold to go around in only spandex. He quickly pulled on his mask, and followed the string of web eastward.

Instead of crawling along his web, (which would alert the other party to his investigation), he leaped onto the walls and crawled on the ceiling. The stones were slippery with grime, but the hairs on his hands gripped the walls firmly.

He was reasonably fast, and sure of his actions. He had been down this tunnel a lot, because it lead to a manhole that entered into an alley. He usually used this route because it meant he could check for possible hostiles, before going onto the streets. Other than that, it was the closest exit.

He travelled about a mile before he came upon two shadowy figures. The first was standing in front of an opened manhole, and light slithered down from the surface. He could make out strong muscles and broad shoulders. His back was to him, but he was pretty sure he already knew who it was. Still, he reassured himself, it wasn't like he actually knew that, right? It could be some other really muscled guy.

The second figure was slim and lithe, with shoulder length hair and nice curves. Obviously a woman, but the hair still set him on edge. His uncle's killer had shoulder length hair...

The woman did not have her back to him, but she was looking at the web. He was safe for now, they hadn't seen him. If he left, he could get his stuff and leave...

But one part of him didn't want to go. These sewer tunnels might be grimy and unhygienic, but they had kept him safe for so long... this was his home now. Why should he have to give it up? It was his turf, surely he had the home-field advantage?

No, the sensible part of him said. They outnumbered him six to one. He had to leave now, before they got to him.

 _The Avengers..._

They were dangerous. He had to leave. He had known from the start that they would find him at some point, he couldn't stay here forever. Before they found him, he had to leave...

Part of him begged for one, the other begged for another. Where would he stay if he couldn't be in the sewers? There was no other place.

 _Yes there was._ Argued the other half. _The old warehouse we trained in before_. That was true, if it was still abandoned, he could stay there... at least until he found a more secretive spot.

With his mind made up, he began to slowly and silently crawl away. As soon as he was far enough, he picked up the pace, trying to get back to the web as quickly as possible. He glanced down at the web string bellow him, and he knew that Black Widow and Captain America were already on the move. They were heading his way.

Fortunately, he reached his web before any of the other Avengers reached it. He could tell that they were planning on cornering him on his web. There were tremors coming from the north and south as well, now. The only way out was west.

To the west there was no manhole, but there was his old web- the one he used to find Curt Connors. He could escape down the water fall thingie there. When he had first done that, he had had no intention of doing it again. he had barely survived the first time, and there was no telling what would happen this time. Then again, he didn't have a giant lizard trying to kill him this time.

He glanced at the webs, and realized that he didn't have much time left. So little time, in fact, that he barely had enough to grab his stuff, before a repulsor blast skimmed past his ear. Fortunately, his Spidey-sense had warned him beforehand, but he might not be so quick next time.

Spiderman leaped from his web. His beautiful web, that he spent so much time on...

He shook his head, ridding himself of such thoughts. He had to leave now, no time to think about his dear safe haven that would undoubtably be ripped apart.

Peter launched a string of web towards the west tunnel, and swung himself forwards. He didn't bother trying to be stealthy this time; they already knew he was here. It was quicker to travel by web, because it went slightly downhill, which meant that he could slide down.

He heard shouts behind him. Things like "He went that way!", and "Quick, follow him!" echoed around him like the tormenting shouts and cries of ghosts. They howled past his ears, but Peter ignored them. He had an escape to complete.

He reached his old, dinky web that was nothing compared to his new one, reasonably fast. It still looked pretty, though, because some of the water from the fall settled on the web like morning dew.

He could hear the stumbling steps of the Avengers nearing him, but that wasn't a cause for concern. What was a cause for concern, was the sound of Ironman's hover-boot-things in action. He could hear that Ironman was a lot closer than the others.

Peter didn't have enough time to put his stuff in his bag, so he leaped into the waterfall-esque thing bellow him while simultaneously slinging his bag on his back. He held his clothes tightly in his hands, but he was sure that they would slip away with the water anyway. He shot quickly into the fall, but for him it was in slow motion.

He could feel the heat of Ironman's hand repulsors on his back. He knew he would be relatively safe in the water, because the only ones from the Avengers that coud go further than the bars were Black Widow and Hawkeye. (He doubted that they would send Banner after him). Because Thor and America were too bulky to get past the bars, and Ironman couldn't even go in the water without breaking his suit.

Hopefully he would lose the other two when the tunnel split in two.

He was nearly in the water now, he could feel the droplets fly past his face, and the rushing and thundering of it bursting in his ears. But it was too good to b true... Ironman had snatched him up by his bag.

Peter's first instinct was to web him in the face. Then he realized that that would do nothing. So, he twisted around, and shot a glob of web each at both of Ironman's hover shoes instead. This caused Ironman and himmself to fall into the water together. Peter felt a strong sense of deja vu as the water envoloped him into it's rushing depths.

He remembered everything perfectly. The way everything was... and suddenly there was not a metal-clad man behind him. Instead, there was a giant Lizard scrawping at his heels. He felt the full throttle of the memory. Suddenly he was tearing away at bars that weren't there; trying to swim for air at the first sign of light, even though he already knew that it was impossible to reach that far up. He followed the exact same path as before; he did the exact same things as before; and he suffocated in the exact same way as before.

Except... this time, the giant lizard was still following him. He could hear the clanking and clacking of its claws, even under the rush of water. The menacing limpness of its-

Hang on, limpness? And... clanking? That didn't sound like a lizard. That sounded like... a drowning Ironman!

He quickly snapped out of his memories, and took note of where he was. Okay, he was about five seconds away from the escape route he had used before. He had less than that to try and grab Ironman, or he might be the cause of murder... again. Except this time, he would be directly responsible. Directly responsible for an Avengers' death... that would only make the government's prejudice against them increase. Peter sighed inwardly.

He used the wall as a launch pad and catapulted himself backwards, towards Ironman. He felt the water protest against him, but the force was enough, and he latched onto Ironman's hand, with the help of the hairs on his palms. Unfortunately, this meant that he had to abandon his jeans and shoes.

With that step complete, he kicked his legs frantically towards the exit he had used the last time. He didn't know when the next escape would be after this one, so for all he knew he might drown before then, and he was already low on oxygen. Ironman was in even worse shape, too, so he would be automatically condemned if he didn't catch this stop.

Fortunately, he managed to grab hold of the sewer's ledge with little trouble. He was close enough that he only had to stretch out his hand against the forcefull current. This would be difficult for any normal human, but he was half spider. I mean, let's be real here.

He slung Ironman out first, and then hauled himself up. His limbs were shaking, and his breath was ragged, but he didn't roll over and try to tend to himself this time. This time, he had to help someone else. He crawled tremblingly over to his fallen enemy.

He ripped off his chest and face plate, (a little surprised by his own strength, but then again, he hadn't used his powers in a while). He turned Ironman over into the fatal position, but other than that, he wringed out his hands. He had no idea what to do... he hadn't treated a drowned person before.

He was relieved when his patient began coughing up water. This was a good sign, right? He had never really watched Bondi Beach, but his aunt used to love it.

Ironman's eyes began to flutter open, so he was pretty sure that was a good sign. He smiled relievedly and fell backwards tiredly. His arms were so weak... he had hardly eaten anything these past few days, and combatting a rediculously strong current had drained him completely. Seriously, what if a normal human had fallen in there? They would have drowned for sure!

Suddenly the energy piled back into him as his Spidey-sense and adrenaline worked in tandem, making him launch up into the air and onto the ceiling without first having thought it over. He looked down to see that a repulsor blast had left a chalky black mark exactly where he had been laying only seconds before. He had never been more thankful for his Spidey-sense.

"What the heck, dude!" He yelled angrily down at Ironman, who was staring lazily up at him. "I just saved your life!"

Ironman grunted and shrugged, a smirk planted on his face. "Maybe... you... shouldn't have." He said, between pants. Spiderman snarled. First they steamrolled over his life, and now the ungrateful little prick was taunting him.

He dropped down from the ceiling and landed in a crouch next to Ironman. "I could kill you," He said lowly, growling.

"But you... won't." Said Ironman. He rested his eyes by closing them gently.

"Oh, and why's that?" he growled, getting down on his haunches, animal like. "Because I'm too weak?"

"No..." He coughed up some more water. "You're too... kind." He said weakly.

Peter was shocked. Had Ironman- the one who took part in ruining his life -just complement him?

He stood up straight, and stared down at Ironman for a while. Then he started walking away; the other Avengers would be here soon. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back around, to look at Ironman. He had turned over onto his back, and was staring up at the ceiling.

His gaze drifted back over to the chest plate and face plate. He wouldn't mind... right? He glanced back over at Ironman, who had closed his eyes. Peter shrugged. Not as though he could stop him, anyway.

He trotted back over to the chest and face plate, and put them in his sopping wet bag. The chest plate was a bit big, and it tore at the edges of his bag, but he might be able to use some of the metal.

Then he glanced back at Stark, who still had his eyes closed. His eyes travelled downwards, to his hands. Peter reached up to the side of his head, and felt where the repulsor had singed past his ear. It had apparently cut his ear and mask open, because he felt blood trickle down his glove. The material around his ear was probably ash black.

Just one... he could leave the other. Peter walked hesitantly over to his... enemy? He had just saved his enemy's life... eh.

He felt around Ironman's right gauntlet, looking for some kind of button that would eject it. After searching for a minute or two, he deducted that apparently there wasn't. So he slvaged the old fashioned way, and pulled it off.

Underneath the gauntlet, Ironman had a leather glove, which made sense, Peter guessed. It would probably hurt if you just wore metal on your skin. He considered taking the glove too, but then he remembered the spandex would be enough protection.

Unable to resist, Peter put the gauntlet on and held out his palm like Ironman did on television. To his surprise, a repulsor blast automatically shot out from his palm. He had no idea how it worked, but he sure as heck was gonna figure it out.

"Cool," he mumbled to himself, and glanced down at Stark, who had opened his eyes. He was smirking proudly to himself, and Peter smirked back, even though Stark couldn't see it.

Deciding he had salvaged enough, Peter put the gauntlet in his bag, and zipped it up. He slung it over his shoulder as he walked to the exit and didn't look back.


	3. Losing your senses

**A/N) So, I'm back with another chapter! Yeah, it's been a while, and it's a little short, but whatever. I've been grappling with other fandoms recently, and it's hard to tell myself to stop and continue these stories. Especially since I have no one really to tell me off whenever I try to start another story. (Fanfiction is a dirty secret, because no one in my family really likes this site...)**

 **Anyway, I'm back now! Oh, and just so you know, there will be mention of the organic webbing that Peter's body can now produce in this chapter. (See my last A/N for more details)**

 **I would also like to thank ShadowHiro, who, in my other story mentioned that 'Spiderman' is actually spelled 'Spider-man'. Thanks!**

 **This chapter's song is 'Losing your senses' By Renegade five.** _(Which the peasant does not own- wait, why are we even doing these? We're on Fanfiction for Pete's sake! No one owns anything here!)_

 **Now then, enjoy this next chapter!**

Peter was currently upside-down on the ceiling in the abandoned warehouse he had trained in before. He was still wearing his suit and hoodie, although it was still quite damp. Mind you, it wasn't as though he had any other clothes. He was kind of cold, but he had found a moth-eaten blanket that had been nibbled at the edges. It didn't help much, as wet clothes weren't really the best in cold climates, (nor were old blankets) but he didn't mind. He had other things on his mind.

The warehouse had fortunately remained untouched in the months that he had been away from it, which he was very relieved for. He had no idea where he would go if he didn't have this place. Perhaps he would seek out some of the other vigilantes? Maybe he would wander the streets in his civilan clothes? Who knew.

Anyway, he didn't have to worry about that. He was here now, so he had time to plan his next move. They would surely find him again soon, so he would need another place to escape to, if that situation were ever to come up.

His first idea was to escape into Europe. There, he could easily disappear, and no one would follow him if he was Peter Parker. Perhaps he could just pull a 'Bruce Banner'? The idea was alright, but he didn't really have the money to execute it. The government had taken May's will rights, after he had disappeared. They had assumed that he had been killed in the streets, after being run over by a car. He had planned that as a disappearing act just after the event with Daredevil and Deadpool. He had had a feeling that he'd need it.

Daredevil had helped with the set-up, because he'd done the same with his 'Brother' at one point. Deadpool had his own ways of escaping, after all, he'd been running from the government for a while before that anyway. (Something about a crim-boss who owed him...)

Of course, they had planned this over old, untracable phones that Deadpool had found a couple of months beforehand. That was mainly how they planned meetings, or training sessions. They didn't use the phones all too much, as they weren't very close, but Peter knew that they were trust worthy.

Another idea was that he could hitch-hike all the way to Canada, and maybe find a boat that would take him someplace else. (Or maybe he wouldn't have to go as far as Canada? All he knew was that there was a lot of fishing boats there that could potentially help him out). He could maybe work on the boat as payment, or something. That was how it worked in the movies, right?

Peter sighed, coming up with no more ideas. He kind of wanted to stay here in New York, because this was his home. He had lived here his whole life... he didn't want to leave it. His house had been desimated, but his home would stand strong.

He was still tired from all the energy he had needed to use the evening before, when the Avengers had attacked him. The interaction with Ironman had been strange, but at least he hadn't kidnapped him. Not that he could have kidnapped Peter- he had been too weak. Plus, the suit had probably completely shut down. If the water had gotten into the suit's system, he'd be stuck in an unworkable suit. A _heavy_ unworkable suit.

A small noise interrupted Peter and his thoughts. His stomach was growling with discomfort, and lack of food. It was not an unfamiliar sound; he had grown used to it over the months. But this time, he had a better food supply. He was in an _abandoned warehouse_... there was bound to be rats and other small rodents here. He could probably skin those, or something. He had read about survival in a booklet that his incle had gotten him for his thirteenth birthday. (Oh, how he wished he had that now).

Peter dropped down from the ceiling (much to the protest of his wrists, which were still scabbing over since he had last used his organic webbing- his skin tore open every time he tried to use it) and began looking around for a good vantage point. An easy way to catch rodents would be to find a good hiding place in the rafters, set out some bait, and wait. He could easily use some of his natural webbing to capture anything that came about. He just needed a spot in the rafters, and some bait...

In the end, he didn't find any bait, but he did find a good vantage spot. He could see around most of the warehouse, (apart from that shadowy place, Simba. You must never go there). All he had to do now was wait, silently, impatiently, and hungrily. Yeah, not so easy. He wished that he had read more in that booklet about hunting stratagies.

About every half an hour, Peter would shift into a different position. Peter congratulated himself on this, and even gave himself a pat on the back, but even with a thirty minute break between each shift, he was sure that most rodents would hear it and move away. This made Peter wonder if he could trap some food without him in the vicinity.

Peter sighed, and frowned to himself. He decided to give up on this idea. He was just getting hungrier and hungrier, and there was still nothing around for him to munch on. Every now and again, a midge or two would pass by, which he would snap into his jaws desperately. He was _starving_. Much more than a normal person would, because of his metabolism.

Peter wasn't sure what he should do. Never before had he starved himself this much, and it _hurt_. He could literally _feel_ his stomach acids raging like waves in the pit of his body. He felt like he could double over, and never get back up again. (Gwen had described period pains like this, and he was not really sure what he wanted to think about that). He felt like groaning and grwling out loud because of the feeling, but he knew that it was essential that he was silent, so as not to give his position away to anyone around. He could perhaps steal something to eat, or go to a homeless camp. Maybe he could look around in some dustbins, or something. Anything! Just so long as he got some food!

He knew that this was an animalistic part of him speaking, and that it was potentially dangerous to let such an uncontrollable, spidery force out on its own, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. He was hungry, and that was all he knew right now. He was hungry, and his stomach was done with begging. It wanted action, and it wanted action now!

Peter leaped down from his perch, and landed in a perfect crouch on the ground. He didn't get up straight away, but he did lift his head up. He was trying to use his Spidey-sense to 'feel' around his surroundings. He needed to make sure no one was around. That, and he also wondered if there was any live prey around...

 **.o0|O|0o.**

When Steve found Tony, he was in bad shape. He had witnessed Ironman's and Spider-man's fall into the water, (although Spider-man appeared to have had the idea of hopping in for a dip anyway).

Steve rushed to his friend, and started to examine his condition. He was breathing, but he fumbled slightly for his pulse. He was a little worried when he didn't find it at first, he did find it after his fingers stopped shaking, though. As soon as he was sure that he was alive, Steve relaxed and took in his now-friend's appearance.

The paint on his suit had been chipped, and a lot of it was missing. His chestplate and faceplate looked like they had been torn off harshly, as well as one of his gloves. Tony was unconcious, but the glowy-thingy in his chest was still going on strong. (Steve remembered that Tony and Bruce had had an in-detail converstion about it, but most of it was lost on him. He left the science to them). Tony's hair was dishevelled, and his top was dripping wet.

As soon as he had asessed his team mate, and made sure that he was alright, he called in the others, and asked Bruce to get down there. (They had split up in order to find Tony and Spider-man, although the latter was obviously somewhere else at this point).

Steve silently nodded as Bruce rushed to his location first. He had probably been very worried about his friend, and rightfully so. Bruce did give a hasty wave to Steve, but he mostly concentrated on diving for his friend with the first aid box.

Now that Tony was in good hands, Steve's mind began to wonder back to Spider-man. Judging by the water's thundering and rumbling, he assumed that an unconcious Tony could not have gotten himself out of that by himself. In such raging water, he would have been carried along further. This made it seem as though Spider-man had been the one who had pulled him out. But why would he do that? He was a criminal, and they were his enemies. Why would he help out his enemies?

And in these conditions, it must have sapped a lot of strength. It was have been hard for him, so why would he...?

But that raised another thought. What had he been eating down here? How had he survived? It had surely been difficult for him. Steve felt... sorry, for Spider-man. He felt upset that _his_ team, and _his_ allies had aided in putting such horrible conditions on one human being. It stung his heart ever so slightly to know that he had been a part of something like this...

Steve shook his head, trying to erase these thoughts. He was a criminal and a vigilante. He was a danger to the public! So no matter how much civilians pleaded or rioted outside of Stark tower, they would bring in every last vigilante. Otherwise, tons of people could be hurt!

Wasn't it strange, though? Said a small, rebelling voice inside of him. Wasn't it strange that he had so many supporters? What if he actually was doing good?

No, he was dangerous. And in any case, there were many more non-supporters than there were supporters.

... Was there? Asked the voice innocently. It left the argument with those two words, and Steve tried to tell himself that it didn't bother him. He tried to tell himself that the seeds of doubt had not been planted in his heart.

He tried.


End file.
